


Personal Space

by billtheradish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: teenwolfkink, Kink Meme, M/M, Oral Fixation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billtheradish/pseuds/billtheradish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Stiles was thinking or trying to focus or zoning out and had a non-food item in his hands, near his hands, or accessible in some other way, it would almost certainly wind up in his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Use it or Lose it

It's not like Derek hadn't noticed. Lacrosse gloves, pens, pencils, bottles, chopsticks, binder clips, loose or dangling bits of clothing, notebooks, and on one memorable occasion, a stick he'd picked up in the woods. The expression Stiles had made when he'd realized what he had in his mouth and spit out the end he'd bitten off had been worth the price of the _noises_ he'd made as a result. But really, it would have been almost impossible to miss. If Stiles was thinking or trying to focus or zoning out and had a non-food item in his hands, near his hands, or accessible in some other way, it would almost certainly wind up in his mouth.

But that isn't something Derek's thinking about when he shoves them both in a janitorial closet at the police station. Or when he presses two fingers against Stiles' mouth when it feels like he's about to say something.

It _leaps_ to the forefront of his mind when Stiles' teeth close around the edge of his index finger and start...nibbling. It's not even really nibbling, more like Stiles is testing the texture and the resilience of the skin. With his teeth. 

There's no light in the closet, but there's enough coming in through the cracks in the door that Derek can see that Stiles is frowning, staring intently at the top of the door, and...yeah. Deep in thought, focusing (maybe even on being quiet), and something next to his mouth.

So Stiles...

Stiles's eyes closed, the frown deepening, and shifted his head to take both of Derek's fingers in his mouth.

The tip of a tongue explored the edge of his fingers, running slowly over the pads with a wet scrape then pressing at the seam between them. He bit again, just above the first knuckle and light enough that it wouldn't even hurt a human.

There was a tentative suck, then Stiles' eyes flew open. Derek pressed forward, pushing down on Stiles' tongue with the fingers already in his mouth and closing the other hand around the back of his neck. "Not. A. Word," he hissed. 

Stiles made a strangled noise in the back of his throat but went still, breathing shallowly through his nose. In the hallway, the cluster of people talking were finally moving again. Derek relaxed the pressure on Stiles' tongue, only to get bitten again, slightly harder than before. With a snort, Derek tugged at his hand and wiped his fingers against Stiles' shirt before turning toward the door.

"Dude. What the _fuck_?"

He'd turned around and pushed Stiles back against the shelves again before he'd processed the entire question. "That's my line, don't you think? You were _sucking on my fingers_."

Stiles snorted, relaxing against the shelves and shooting an unimpressed look in roughly the direction of Derek's face. "Not my fault if you put 'em there."

"I didn't..."

"Yeah, yeah you did. Don't even. Pro tip? If you need my mouth occupied so I don't talk? _Don't use your hands_ unless you want 'em chewed on." The smaller the space, the larger Stiles' gestures seemed to get. They filled the closet, his hands brushing the walls without quite knocking anything over. Yet. "This isn't a secret, for fuck's sake."

Derek blinked as Stiles pushed past him and opened the door, muttering to himself as he checked the hall. "You'd think the stick would've been a tip off, I mean jeeze."


	2. Intrusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stupid thing was that if it had been sexual, Derek probably would have been able to just ignore it.

The stupid thing was that if it had been sexual, Derek probably would have been able to just ignore it. If it had been deliberate or seductive, with soft lips, teasing flicks of a tongue and a lot more suction, it would have been easy enough to categorize and reject.

Instead, all he can think about is those _teeth_. The soft pressure of them, testing and curious rather than trying to threaten or tease. Even when Stiles' mind had clearly been somewhere else, he'd been...gentle.

If it hadn't been for that inherent gentleness, it would have felt like dealing with a cub. That stage where everything goes in the mouth to be tasted, chewed on, and learned. But kids rarely understood gentle, it was something they had to learn, growing up. For Stiles, it really had seemed instinctive.

It hadn't been sexual, but Stiles wasn't a child, either. Not like that, at least. So it was...intimate, in its own way. And the incident clung to his mind no matter how many times Derek tried to shove it away.

He wondered how it would be different if Stiles had been focused on the taste, the feel, the reactions of something under his mouth, rather than spending that focus elsewhere.

\-----

Keeping track of what Stiles put in his mouth wasn't actually new. Previously, it had mostly been because he wanted to know if it was going to make noise, or had a chance of accidentally poisoning Stiles. And it had been amusing. But that's all it had been; entertainment and a way of avoiding annoyances and distractions.

Now, Derek found himself not just keeping track of what Stiles was putting in his mouth, but what Stiles _had_ put in his mouth. Which pens had tooth marks, which didn't, which ones Stiles avoided almost entirely. He knew that Stiles was more likely to chew on his own right hand, right glove, the inner point of the right wrist cuff for a hoodie or jacket, than he was the left. Derek could recognize the difference between how Stiles licked his lower lip out of nerves versus the slower, firmer swipes he did when he was seeking a sensation to focus on.

He was achingly aware of where Stiles' mouth had been on his hands, and where it hadn't been.

He was achingly aware of Stiles' mouth.

It was becoming a problem.

\-----

He hadn't been in Stiles' room in weeks, but Stiles checked behind the door like it was habit, only flailing a little when he saw Derek. "Can't you use a phone?" he hissed as he checks the hall and closes the door firmly. "Or, I don't know, a _door_?"

"I needed to check something."

Stiles scoffed, dumping his bag as he walked over to the desk. "You mean you need me to check something. What..."

"No." 

Stiles stilled after a movement that's somewhere between a flinch and a twitch, folded into his chair and turned half away from Derek. He looked back, expression tight and this... This was entirely wrong.

"Nobody's in danger, nobody's hurt, I don't need anything from you. I just...needed to check." Which wasn't horribly coherent, but Stiles' stress was shifting from nerves to confusion, so he was staring at Derek and...chewing on his lower lip.

And Derek was staring.

"Uh. Derek? What were you..."

Stiles tensed abruptly, his heart rate rocketing, as Derek stepped forward and pressed a finger against his lips. They hadn't been this close since that moment in the supply closet, but Derek needed an answer. Needed to know how Stiles would react to this.

Seduction could be pushed aside. Rejection could be too. But not this. Not this festering obsession.

Derek slid his finger slowly over Stiles' lip, matching the speed of his tongue when he was thinking. He kept the pressure light, gentle, though it wasn't instinct for him. Stiles' breath hitched, the exhale shaky as he pulled away from the touch. But he smelled of arousal, abrupt and surprising, rather than fear.

"Hey," Stiles started, trying for a laugh and powering on even when it came out weak. "I thought you learned your lesson about trying to shut me up that way, already. Remember? I..."

"I remember." Derek twisted his hand, cradling Stiles' jaw lightly and brushing his thumb over his lips. He bit back a groan when Stiles shut his eyes with a whispered _"fuck"_ and bit down on his thumb once the word was finished. The pressure was harder than when his brain was elsewhere, but lighter than when he'd made a point by biting. Just enough to send a sweet twinge through the fleshy edge he'd captured. 

Stiles moaned and brought his own hands up, gripping Derek's wrist and cradling the back of his hand, shifting him until he could close his teeth over the knuckle. His tongue followed the scrape of teeth, wrapping around and exploring every crease and line. Eyes still closed, he bit and explored his way to the base of Derek's thumb, closing his teeth around it and laving it thoroughly with his tongue before pulling away and dropping his face into Derek's hand. "What. Why?"

"I needed to know."

This time Stiles' laugh wasn't weak. It was _broken_. "You don't... You shouldn't just do that. This doesn't make any..."

Leaving his hand where it was, Derek knelt and leaned forward until his lips brushed the back of Stiles' hand. He ignored the way Stiles' breath caught, the way his scent spiked and thickened with desire. Instead, he carefully tugged Stiles' hand closer and closed his teeth over the mound beneath Stiles' thumb. Gently. Testing the feel of it, learning its resistance, feeling the shudder it sent through him.

"Oh my god."

Derek hummed a pleased agreement and set about learning everything he could about Stiles' hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to [this kinkmeme prompt](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/6131.html?thread=4949491).
> 
> Beta credit again and still to my obnoxiously enigmatic roommate.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [this kinkmeme prompt](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/6131.html?thread=4949491).
> 
> Beta credit to my roommate, who hasn't told me how I should credit her online, so instead I leave cryptic notes.


End file.
